


Not-A-Birthday Party

by Ordered_Chaos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday, Drabble, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8598127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ordered_Chaos/pseuds/Ordered_Chaos
Summary: Cas doesn't really have a birthday. But that doesn't mean they can't celebrate him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hekate1308](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/gifts).



> Schönen Namenstag! <3

The bunker is completely silent when Cas returns from his beer run. He frowns, not sure if he should be worried or not.

“Dean?” he calls, peering over the railing at the empty table below.

“We’re in the kitchen, Cas!” Dean yells back faintly. Cas thinks he hears a smile in his friend’s voice, and it brings one to his own face.

He makes his way down the bunker’s echoing hallways. The reusable bag in his hand contains a six-pack and a bottle of organically-farmed honey. He wants to experiment with the two; see if he can produce something that has the comfort of honey along with the spark of beer. Dean tells him you have to add the honey while you’re _brewing_ the beer, not dump it in after, or it’ll be disgusting. But Cas is still pretty sure he can get Dean to at least taste it.

He freezes when he reaches the kitchen. Dean and Sam are both leaning against the counter, beers in hand, waiting for him. There are three wrapped boxes behind them. Cas shoots them a suspicious look.

He says, “What are you doing?”

“Surprising you,” Dean answers. He puts his beer down and pushes the two smaller boxes off the large one on the bottom. Something clanks loudly when they hit the countertop.

“Dean,” Sam reproaches.

Cas comes forward, still cautious. “Why?” he asks.

Sam makes a face at Dean and then turns to Cas. Dean opens the box and the smell of processed sugar and vanilla wafts into Cas’ face. Dean inhales deeply.

“We got you a cake,” Sam says unnecessarily.

Cas peers past Dean and sees a blue-frosted monstrosity with green letters that say, “Happy Not-Birthday, Cass!”

“I told her it was only one ‘S,’” Dean grumbles.

“It’ll taste the same,” Sam says reasonably. “Happy not-birthday, Cas.”

Cas doesn’t understand. “But it’s— Angels don’t have birthdays.”

“Which is why we picked today,” Dean says. “Last year today you got your Grace back.”

“Oh.” It’s true. So much has happened since then, and so many things have been pulling them in so many different directions that it almost doesn’t feel like it’s been a full year.

Dean hands him a knife. “Birthday boy gets first dibs.”

“I’m not a birthday boy.”

“Touchy. Not-birthday boy gets first dibs.”

Cas rolls his eyes and cuts a generous piece, careful not to ruin the words. He levers it onto a plate and passes it to Dean.

“First one’s yours,” Dean says.

“I’ll get one.”

He cuts another, more reasonably-sized piece for Sam and hands it over. Sam lifts it in thanks and gives them each a fork. The Winchesters wait until Cas has taken a bite before digging in themselves. Cas suspects that’s another strange birthday tradition.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he says as he swallows his third bite.

Dean has almost half his piece in his mouth and can’t answer, so Sam shrugs and says, “We wanted to. We got you stuff, too.”

Dean swallows with difficulty, puts his plate down, and grunts, “Open mine first.”

He hands the slightly mollified Cas a heavy, slender bag stuffed with tissue paper.

“The lady put it in that dopey bag,” Dean says self-consciously. “I guess she thinks it’ll taste better if it’s dressed up like a freaking doll.”

Cas pulls out a glass bottle shaped like a skull, and full of light gold liquid. The label says it’s Pirate’s Blood Pepper Mead.

“Looks awesome, right?” Dean asks, with that unabashed grin he gets so rarely. “That’s what you’re _supposed_ to get when you use honey to make alcohol.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says earnestly.

Dean rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. Hope you like it.”

“Here’s mine,” Sam says, and he passes Cas the much larger bag.

The first thing he pulls out is a big card signed by Charlie, Jody, Donna, Claire, Alex, Hannah, Sam, and Dean. It’s simple enough, but he’s shocked by the lengths to which his friends would go for this single moment of his happiness.

Inside are an assortment of items. Cas lays them all out on the counter one by one. Most of them have notes attached. There’s a new trenchcoat that says it’s from Jody and Donna (‘In case yours gets blown up or something. Wouldn’t want you to be naked!’); a box set of the _Lord of the Rings_ movies from Charlie (‘Yes, Dean, they’re the extended edition. Go have fun. But you better tell me about it!’); a box of condoms that has no note on it (—“Whoa, wait,” Dean chokes over a mouthful of cake. “Who gave you those?” “Wasn’t me,” Sam says. “Maybe Claire?”—); a painting of his name in Enochian from Hannah (‘I’m sorry I can’t be there in person, Castiel.’ —“Yeah, Cas, she really was,” Sam said. “It was hard enough to get in touch with her to sign the card.”—); and a new knife from Sam (‘Sorry I couldn’t think of anything better, man. Happy Not-Birthday.’)

“Thank you,” Cas says, staring at the evidence of the people who love him. He wants to say something more eloquent and heartfelt, but he can’t think of anything. “Thank you both so much.”

Dean claps him on the shoulder. “Whaddaya say we have cake for dinner, drink that whole bottle of mead, and watch Charlie’s present?”

Sam makes a face, but Cas can’t think of a better way to spend his not-birthday.

One cake, two and a half movies, a full bottle of mead, and about a dozen beers later, they are strewn lazily over the couch. Dean is gripping Cas’ arm tightly, gesturing excitedly at the tv.

“Wait for it, Cas. It’s so freaking awesome when—”

“Dean, just let him watch it,” Sam complains, slumped in the armchair because at one point Dean (who had been sitting between Sam and Cas) had decided to put his feet up, forcing Sam off the couch in the process.

“I don’t even remember my first time watching it,” Dean says. “That’s how awesome it is.”

“Plus you were like, eight,” Sam says.

“Oh, shut up, bitch,” Dean says lightheartedly. He throws himself back against the couch, his shoulder brushing Cas’. They’ve been in gentle, unassuming contact for several hours now, and Cas never realized his life had been cold until now, feeling Dean’s warmth pressed against him, and the warmth of his friends inside.

“Jerk,” Sam says.

“I think I know what the intended purpose of those condoms is,” Cas interrupts.

Sam lowers his beer back to his lap, frozen like a startled deer. Dean laughs.

“Dude, do you need the Talk? I thought you knew what condoms are for.”

“Of course I know _that_ ,” Cas says impatiently. Sam glues his eyes to the tv, which is flashing an epic array of manly feelings down on them.

Cas places one hand on Dean’s cheek, turning his head to face him. Dean stares at him, and Cas quite forgets the joke he was about to attempt. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sam downing the rest of his beer in earnest.

He’s about to ask if this is okay. If Dean is also feeling the intensity of this moment. He’s just drunk enough that the fear that normally accompanies those questions is too slow to stop him asking. But before he can get the words out, Dean is kissing him.

He feels as though time has stopped just for this moment. The breath in his lungs freezes as though Dean is kissing it right out of him. Cas is smiling so broadly there’s almost no lip free for the kiss.

But as things get more heated, with Dean pushing him onto his back on the couch, Cas pulls away. Dean’s expression turns confused, anxious.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Cas says. He sits up. “I want this….”

“But…?”

Cas notices Sam has left the room, although the movie is still playing.

“I want to finish the movie.”

“We can finish it another time.”

“Yes, I know….” Cas hesitates again.

Dean withdraws to the other side of the couch. “Dammit,” he says. “Sorry, Cas. I’m sorry. Forget that happened. I shoulda known it was only me who wanted it.”

“No, Dean,” Cas says firmly. “It is most certainly _not_ only you. Any other time I would not hesitate to explore every hedonistic idea I have ever longed to try with you.”

Dean opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. Their eyes are locked together, and if Dean himself hadn’t pulled away, Cas knows there’s no force that could ever have dragged them apart.

“….But?” Dean rasps finally.

“But we’re drunk,” Cas says. “And you’re tired. And this is a good movie. Could we just…enjoy this moment? And try everything new tomorrow?” He fiddles with a button on his trenchcoat, looking at his lap.

Dean kisses him again with a smile so wide Cas’ heart swells. “’Course,” Dean says. “Of course.”

When the movie is over, they fall asleep pressed together on the couch. Dean is warm against him, breathing steadily, one hand wrapped in the folds of his coat as though he never wants to let go. Cas has an arm resting over Dean’s back.

When they wake up the next morning, Sam has generously thrown a blanket over them. Dean stretches and looks around in confusion. For a moment, Cas is scared that he’ll panic about last night.

But Dean smiles and pecks his lips. “You still drunk?” he asks.

“No.”

“Me neither.”

They grin at each other, warm and comfortable and raring to go.

“Let’s go test out your not-birthday gifts.”

“Is Sam still here?”

“Not if he has two brain cells,” Dean laughs, sitting up and taking the blanket with him. He flaps the corner of it. “And I think he does. Probably.”

“That’s good,” Cas muses. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Dean asks, standing up and stretching his back with several satisfying pops.

“For making you wait until this morning.”

“Dude, I waited seven years,” Dean grins. “One more night, when I knew this was coming? Totally worth it.”

Cas stands up to join him. “I’m glad.” He leans in to kiss the air out of Dean’s lungs like Dean did to him last night.

After several minutes they break apart and Dean gasps out, “Me too.”

He takes Cas’ hand and starts dragging him toward his bedroom.

“You’ve been waiting for this for seven years?” Cas asks, perplexed.

“Dude, have you seen you?”

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t literal, Cas.”

“I know.” He smirks, and Dean presses him heatedly against the wall. “We’re not in your bedroom yet, Dean.”

“I know.”

And they’re kissing again.

They make it into the bedroom, but only barely. And then it’s quite a while before they leave.

**Author's Note:**

> [ Pirate’s Blood Pepper Mead ](http://shop.bev-art.com/product.sc?categoryId=35&productId=1085) is a real thing. And yes, the bottle is freaking awesome.


End file.
